After convincing Mrs. Kringle to lend her the newspaper, promising she would bring it back first thing in the morning, Barbara left the library and started for Wayne Tower. With its ominous neon W shining down on her like an ever-watchful eye, Barbara crossed the street, pushing past the wind threatening to tear the newspaper from her grasp. Fearing it would be carried alongside the autumn leaves, Barbara tucked the newspaper into her jacket and continued forward.
From above, a mass of menacing clouds had gathered across the evening sky, rattling the tower to its core with every crackle of thunder. But not even the fierce wind whipping Barbara's hair around or the sudden downpour of icy rain could match the rage swirling inside her. A storm was coming, and it was heading right for Wayne Tower.
Flinging the glass door back, Barbara rolled inside the pristine lobby, leaving a wet trail behind her. With her hair a sopping mess and mascara running down her cheeks, Barbara imagined she must have looked like the walking dead by how the secretary startled back in her chair, dropping her nail filer with a gasp.
"I need to speak to Richard," she demanded before the woman even had a chance to open her mouth.
The woman, who Barbara was ninety percent sure was named Selina, cleared her throat and frowned. "He's not here right now."
"Then where is he?" Barbara asked through gritted teeth.
Selina picked her nail filer back up and shrugged. "Who knows?"
Oh, the nerve of this woman. Well, whatever. There was more than one way to skin a cat. "Then let me speak to Bruce."
"He's busy at the moment." Selina barely even glanced at Barbara as she continued filing her razor-sharp nails.
"Then I'll wait here until he's not." Barbara arched her eyebrow, unable to stop the smirk spreading over her lips. "My babysitter is still out shopping and probably forgot about me anyway, so there's no rush."
Selina paused, narrowing her eyes at Barbara. "Did I say busy? What I meant to say was that you just missed him. He's gone home for the day."
"Bullshit!" Barbara slammed her fist on the desk, nearly cracking the glass surface. "I know he's here!"
"I'm sorry, but unless you have an appointment—Hey! You can't go that way!"
"Don't worry, he's expecting me!" Barbara called out as she glided down the hall towards the elevator. Hearing Selina's stilettos click against the tile after her only propelled Barbara forward, pushing her closer to that pair of shiny metallic doors in the corner. But even with impossibly high heels, Selina was quickly catching up. If Barbara didn't round the corner in the next few seconds, then she never would. She was nearly there. She just had to turn this corner and press the button...
"You!" Barbara skidded to an abrupt stop just in time to avoid crashing into the man who had stepped out of the elevator. Selina, on the other hand, was not so lucky.
Tripping over herself and her oversized heels, Selina tumbled headfirst into the back of Barbara's wheelchair with a loud bang. If she wouldn't have been chasing her like a killer out of a horror film, Barbara might have actuallyfelt sorry for the secretary. It sure sounded painful if her groans were anything to go by.
"Ms. Kyle, are you all right?" Bruce stepped around the wheelchair and glanced down at his secretary sprawled out over the floor.
"Yes!" Selina sprung to her feet so quickly, Barbara thought she might fall back over. As she brushed herself off, Barbara did not fail to notice the sleeve of her blouse creep up, exposing the black skull tattooed on her skin.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne." Selina cleared her throat and tugged her sleeve back down."This girl just came in without an appointment and demanded to see you. But don't worry, I'll take care of her." She gripped the handlebars, about to wheel Barbara around, when Bruce caught her by the wrist, stopping her.
"No, I can deal with her." He let go of her slender wrist before taking the wheelchair from her grasp. "Thank you, Selina. But you can go home for the day."
Selina rubbed the spot where Bruce's fingers had been just seconds ago. "But what about—"
"That will be all for now, Ms. Kyle." Bruce dipped his head, never once breaking his gaze from her. "Have a good evening."
Without another word, Bruce guided Barbara into the elevator and shut the doors. No sooner had Bruce released his finger from the 'Close Door' button did Barbara turn around and tear into him with all the menace she could muster.
"You lying piece of shit! This entire time, you were just like her!" Barbara fumed. "You and—and—"
"Is that why you're here?" Bruce raised an eyebrow, regarding her as if he would rather do literally anything else than talking to her. "To see Richard?"
"Who else would I want to see?" She glared up at him as the floor numbers continued to climb. "So where is he?"
"The truth is, I don't know. Probably running around the city somewhere," he said, stepping off out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. "What is it you want with him?"
Hurrying after him, Barbara struggled to catch up with his quick strides even with her wheelchair. "As if you don't know!" she exclaimed in-between breaths. "You can't fool me anymore, Bruce. I know the truth about you. I know what you are."
He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes burning like a blue flame through the dark. "Do you now?" His voice reverberated through the empty hall.
The doors swung open in front of them, and in the soft glow of the fireplace, Barbara watched as he slipped into the office. Following in after him, she rolled into the sweltering office, only to find no one but the smoldering remains of a fire inside.
What the hell? He had been right in front of her. She saw him open the door. She saw him go inside!
"Then tell me, what is it I am?" The door slammed shut behind her, nearly giving Barbara a heart attack. Spinning around, Barbara couldn't help but gasp when she saw Bruce standing only about an arm's-length away from her with his back against the door. No longer looking as if he were watching paint dry, Bruce studied her with what could only be described as a knowing gleam in his eye. What he knew though, Barbara had no idea.
But she intended to find out.
"Is it magic?" Barbara tilted her chin up in an effortto match his confidence. "Or something else? I thought maybe human sacrifice. Even bathing in human blood crossed my mind."
If she hadn't seen his gaze narrow, Barbara would've thought a mannequin had replaced him. He remained impossibly still, and not even the rise and fall of his chest could be detected. Removing his hands from behind his back, Bruce opened his mouth to answer. But before he could even utter a syllable, the door was thrown open, knocking him off balance.
Barbara had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing, and she probably would've if it weren't for who came waddling in.
"Mr. Wayne," Mr. Cobblepot greeted with a wicked grin. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything!" His beady eyes flickered to Barbara as he shot her a wink.
She bit her tongue again, but it wasn't to keep from laughing this time.
"No, not at all." Bruce ran a hand through his hair, slicking a loose stand back in place. "I've been expecting you, Oswald."
Oswald glanced at Barbara and frowned. "Then why is she here?"
"Interestingly enough, she has the same questions you do." Bruce walked up to the hearth and tossed a thick log into the fire. The hungry flames latched onto the dry bark, consuming it in a matter of seconds.
"Oh, really?" A smirk spread across Oswald's thin lips. "That is interesting."
If Bruce heard him, he gave no indication as he continued stoking the fire in silence. But unless he had suddenly gone deaf, Barbara knew he had to have heard him and was just ignoring Oswaldfor some reason. And what was this about the same questions she had? Could it be...
"Ahem." Oswald cleared his throat before wobbling up behind Bruce. "I am a patient man, Bruce. But you see,even my patience has worn thin. I know you're hiding something and I demand to know what it is!"
"You will get your answer in due time, Oswald." Bruce placed the poker back beside the hearth with a gentle clink, his face still hidden behind the shadows of dancing flames.
"No! I want it now!" he screamed like a two-year-old who had been told "no," for the first time. "You promised you would share it with me! And you're not going to waste my time any longer, Mr. Wayne! What is the secret?"
"Oswald—"
"How is it we're the same age and yet, you look about two decades younger?" Oswald flapped his arms around and stomped his foot, resembling a silly bird trying to take flight. If it were under any other circumstance, Barbara would've found it almost comical. "Tell me! What is the secret?"
From behind him, Bruce's clasped hands tightened until it looked like he was crushing the bones in his fingers. "I know a very good plastic surgeon—"
"Oh, sod off with that plastic surgery crap! How is it that you look so damn young?" If Oswald's face turned any redder, he would look like one of Pamela's carnations. "Look at me, damn it!"
Bruce twisted his head around, just enough for Barbara to see the dangerous glint in his eye. "You really want to know, Oswald?"
"Yes!Of course! Why do you think I came all the way down here?" Oswald huffed.
"I have to admit, I never thought you would have figured it out." Through the crackling of the flames, Bruce's voice was barely above a whisper, making Barbara have to lean forward just to catch what he was saying. "You are a rich man. You are a corrupt man. But you are not a smart man, Oswald."
Oswald took a step back, whether on instinct or from something he saw, Barbara couldn't tell. "What—What are you saying—"
"What I'm saying is that a smart man would've kept quiet." Bruce finally turned, revealing a pair of glistening fangs in a mouth that stretched ear-to-ear. "But you liked the sound of your own voice too much."
In the blink of an eye, Bruce was on the man, grabbing a hold of him before sinking his teeth into his thick neck.
"Holy shit!" Barbara's hand clamped over her mouth as she watched Bruce pin Oswald to the floor, holding him there as he fed? Drank? Barbara wasn't sure what he was doing, only that he was killing Oswald in front of her very eyes.
As much as she wanted to look away, she couldn't. It was as if she was compelled to look at the man kicking and screaming for his life as it was slowly drained from him. Even if she could find the strength to shut her eyes, the sound of Bruce slurping up Oswald's blood would still paint a prettyvivid picture, one that might even be worse than what she was witnessing.
It wasn't long before Oswald's frantic screams became weak, strangled gasps of air. Even his desperate attempts to get Bruce off of him had ceased, having turned into a series of random spasms and twitches. After a few minutes, those stopped altogether and all that could be heard were the snaps and pops of the burning wood.
Licking his red-stained lips, Bruce's hungry gaze shifted from the body beside him to the girl staring wide-eyed from across the room. He rose off the ground, his blood-filled eyes slowly starting to return to normal. Even his fangs were gone, making Barbara wonder if they had been nothing more than a trick of the light. If not for the trickle of blood running down his chin, he would have looked like he had just come out of a meeting.
His arm shot up to his face, probably to wipe his mouth, but that was all Barbara needed to get the hell out of there. Yanking the door back, she glided down the hall towards the elevator, not even wanting to look behind her. She knew if he wanted to, he could catch her. It wouldn't even be a challenge.
Heart racing, Barbara pounded the elevator button as if that would make it come faster.
"Come on, come on," she whispered, watching as the number at the top increased with each floor it passed. As soon as the number reached the penthouse floor, she practically threw herself inside, squeezing into the elevator before the doors had completely opened.
Holding the button until the doors shut, Barbara finally glanced out at the hall, almost expecting Bruce to appear at the last second—his hand reaching inside and shoving the doors back before pulling her out. But in the shaft of fluorescent light pouring out into the hall, there was no one there waiting for her in the dark.
If Barbara thought she could rest once the elevator started moving, she was wrong. Gulping in deep breaths of air, she placed a hand over her pounding heart in hopes of steadying it. The last thing she needed—or wanted—right now was to go into cardiac arrest.
When the elevator doors opened again, Barbara did not rush out like before. Though the lobby seemed to be empty, she knew appearances could be deceiving. It might be impossible for a regular man to climb down several flights of stairs in under two minutes, but if there was anything she learned tonight, it was that Bruce was no regular man.
Keeping an ever-watchful eye out, Barbara made her way out of the lobby without the slightest hiccup. But she wasn't out of the woods yet.
Greeted by a blast of chilly air from the incoming fog, Barbara realized just how much she had been sweating as she felt her damp skin turn to ice underneath her sweater. Great, if it wasn't getting rained on that got her sick, then it'd be her own body fluids.
With a sigh, she wrapped her jacket tighter around her and started towards the subway station. Though the storm had long since passed, flashes of lightning could still be seen in the clouds above every so often. Shivering, Barbara wondered if it was too late to call a cab instead. There was a payphone on the other side of the street she could use, but that would mean waiting for who knows how long for the cab to arrive. Waiting, alone and vulnerable, with nothing but that bright neon W to keep her company.
No, what she needed to do right now was go home. Warn her dad about everything, no matter how crazy it sounded. And hopefully, get as far away from Gotham as possible.
What time was it anyway? Glancing at her watch, she cursed under her breath. It wasn't even seven yet. Her dad wouldn't be home for at least another five hours. Well, she could take the subway to the police station and—
"Barbara?"
She stopped, turning on instinct towards the voice and immediately regretting it. There, standing a few feet away on the sidewalk, was a figure with eyes the color of sapphire. Although he was nothing more than a silhouette in the rolling fog, Barbara knew all too well who that voice belonged to. Fighting back the bile creeping up her throat, Barbara ignored him and continued moving in the opposite direction.
"Hey, Barbara! Where are you going?" Richard broke from the fog and strolled up behind her.
Don't turn around. Just keep going.
"Barbara, what's wrong? Are you mad at me?"
Don't turn around!
"What's that you have in your hand?"
Ignoring every instinct telling her not to, Barbara came to a halt and thrust the newspaper into his arms. "What the hell is this, Richard? Huh?"
"I—I don't know," he stammered as he glanced it over. "An old newspaper? Where did you even get this?"
"Someone gave it to me. Someone who was there! So stop playing dumb!" Her finger struck the paper as she pointed at the photo. She never wanted to hit someone so badly before. Not even Pamela, and she had considered it more than once. But now, under the glow of the streetlight, Richard never looked more punchable with his pathetic attempt at puppy-dog eyes.
Yet, for some reason, she was still willing to give him another chance. Another chance to come clean and say this was all some big misunderstanding. Another chance to say he had lied about being in a circus and had taken someone else's more interesting identity.
Another chance to unbreak her heart.
"Tell me this isn't you, Richard!" A frosty breath left her lips, visible in the night. "Please... Tell me that isn't you."
Richard's eyes bored into hers, never once blinking. "It's not."
Barbara always knew Richard looked like Bruce's biological son, but it was at that moment Barbara realized how much they truly resembled each other. Though they did not share the same blood, their likeness went deeper than just simple appearances. "You're so full of shit," she choked out.
"Barbara!" Richard raised his hands in defense. "You know me. I'm right here. Alive. How could that be me when I'm standing right here in front of you?"
Barbara shook her head, feeling the cracks in her heart splinter all over again. "I don't know you. I don't think I ever did."
Hurt flashed through his eyes. "Barbara..."
"Just give me back the paper, Richard." She reached out and tried snatching it from him, only for him to easily sidestep her swipe. "Give me back the paper!"
Richard's gaze shifted back to her, no longer looking so warm and friendly. "I'm sorry, Barbara. But I'm going to have to keep this."
"No!" She lurched forward as he started tucking it inside his jacket. Latching onto his sleeve, she tugged him closer to her, hoping to get him as near as possible without falling off the chair. But almost as soon as she grabbed a hold of him, Barbara was shoved back into her wheelchair and sent spinning backward. It was a miracle she hadn't tumbled over.
"Whoa!" Panic flashed through his eyes as he ran up to her. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—"
"Don't touch me!" Barbara jerked back from his reach; a single tear rolling down her cheek.
"Barbara, I'm sorry!" His voice cracked. He took another step towards her, his face crumbling as if he actuallymeant it. He was almost convincing enough that if Barbara had been any more in love, she might have believed him.
"Get away from me!" She held her fists out, the only thing she could hope to defend herself with. "I want nothing to do with you! You hear me? Don't ever come near me again!"
Done with his lies, done with his apologies, done with everything, Barbara rolled across the street andinto the fog. There was a time when his pleas for her to come back might have been enough to make her stop and turn around, but not anymore. No matter how many times her name left his lips, she would not look back.
He couldn't fool her anymore. She saw Richard for who he really was, for what they all were.
Monsters.